Time/Date :It is currently 14:22 Pacific Time on Wed May 30 2007.

Place : Farmhouse

Weather :Currently in Saint Claire, it's a sunny day. The temperature is 81 degrees Fahrenheit (27 degrees Celsius). The wind is currently coming in from variable directions at 5 mph. The barometric pressure reading is 30.02 and falling, and the relative humidity is 26 percent. The dewpoint is 43 degrees Fahrenheit (6 degrees Celsius.)

Moon Phase :Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (93% full).

Farmhouse: Hallway and Living Room

All doorways in the front part of the house lead to the front hallway, a J-shaped area with the short tail starting at the stairs, the front door hitting the bottom curve, the doorless opening to the living room halfway up the long side, and the also doorless opening to the kitchen and dining room at the very top. The hall has a simple wooden floor, and decorated with a generic print of soft-colored flowers hanging on the wall to the right of the front door, and a tall table sitting under the print which serves as a place to toss keys. A closet under the stairs serves as a place to hang coats or to toss shoes.
The doorless opening to the living room is halfway up the side of the hall's J, and the word cozy might spring to mind when looking into is, as it seems to radiate comforting vibrations. A long couch sits against the south wall beneath a large bay window curtained only by sheers that manages to obscure the view in but only filters the day's light. A variety of out-of-date magazines are strewn atop a low coffee table; more neatly presented are the plethora of books filling the small bookshelves which line the eastern wall. Three chairs sit about the room, focused inward, to allow group conversations. Large floor pillows are stacked in one corner of the room, except one, which lies carelessly in the middle of the floor, apparently left out the last time it was used.
An opening in the northern end of the hallway allows access to the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, while carpeted stairs twist up at the other end of the hall, leading to the second floor. A door at the base of the J lets out to the front porch.


Sometime over the last couple of years, a teen girl with a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper has grown up, and matured into a young woman. With a poor attitude and a hair-trigger temper. KL is a little over five-foot tall - no late growth spurt for her - and slimly built. She moves quickly, and is rarely still for any length of time. Her natural balance and co-ordination are clearly evident in her movement, but any hint of grace is smothered with her air of irritation, hostility and restrained aggression. She manages to turn even simple activities - like ordering fries - into not particularly subtle attempts to provoke fights.
Her mousy-brown hair is pulled back into a plait that hangs down to the small of her back and is fastened at the bottom and top by dark brown leather bands. She's really quite attractive, perhaps not a pin-up, but far from ugly, with a cute upturned nose and wide expressive hazelnut eyes. However, any level of appeal her physical appearance might have is swamped by the anger in her gaze and the sullen set of her mouth. She stares at people - particularly people she doesnt know - with a cold fury, as if trying to decide exactly which way to kill them.
KL has pale skin, and on her right shoulder-blade is a two-inch-square tattoo of a winged horse. There isn't much in the way of excess flesh on her, her cheekbones are clearly visible and her bare arms have a tight musculature that speaks of regular and plentiful exercise.
She is wearing a pair of blue jeans that look brand-new, and have a designer label clearly visible on the rear, a pair of combat boots that also look new. On her upper half she is sporting a rather snazzy black leather jacket over a clean new white t-shirt.


Standing at some five feet nine inches, and aged perhaps in his late teens or early twenties, Felix Szkarpiak has a monochromatic air about him that's only enhanced by his longish sable hair, pale face, and entirely black outfit. He's dressed in a black polo-neck, black jeans, black socks and even black sneakers, with the only variety to this outfit being a silver-colored metallic chain round his neck that carries a diamond-shaped piece of transparent material, with a musical note engraved upon it. He often wears wrap-around sunglasses which only add further to the monochrome style he affects. With them, he looks like a mafia hitman; without them, he bears an odd resemblance to a 1950s beatnik. His eyes, when not hidden by the sunglasses, are grey and cold.

Sitting in the armchair in the living room, eating an austerely thin sandwich from a plate and carefully picking crumbs from his clothing and depositing them back on the plate after every bite, sits Felix. His ubiquitous black coat is draped over the arm of another chair, but he's still wearing a black rollneck and black jeans. And his sunglasses.

The front door slams open and then closed again, with the kind of violence that would normally imply it had been hit by a battering ram rather than opened. KL blows into the farmhouse like a hurricane, and then slams to a halt in the entrance to the living room. "Who the fuck are you?" she demands, in one of her more standard opening gambits. She folds her arms and moves her feet shoulder-width apart, in a sort of 'none shall pass' pose.

Felix starts, and his glasses slide slightly crooked on his nose. He straightens them, puts the plate aside, and stands up. "Do you always greet people this way?" he responds, scornfully.

"Only when I don't know them," KL says, her mouth quirking at the corners, though her stare remains hard. "You didn't answer the question. Who the fuck are you?" She takes a purposeful step into the room.

Felix stands his ground, without any sign of flinching. "Felix Szkarpiak is my name, if that means anything to you," he says. "I am a cliath and philodox of the Shadow Lords. And I am a guest in this sept, which I would have liked to think would earn me some respect and politeness. Do you have a name, or is it just 'Rar'?"

"I am KL Cole, rited Escapes-from-Money, Cliath Ahroun of the Black Furies, sort of packed under Wolverine as part...well...all...of HAVOC," The Fury says, still staring. Recognition slowly dawns on her. "Are you that Philodox who has been causing all the trouble with Lefty? And this *is* respect and politeness."

Felix's head comes up. "Me? Cause trouble with Leftie? Madam, you seem to have your cart before your horse. Lefty broke the litany, and Lefty ran away in an attempt to escape punishment. I am merely here to ensure that her punishment, which she richly deserves, catches up with her. Do you have a problem with that, as well as your tribal elder?"

"I don't have a problem with my tribal elder," KL retorts angrily. "She's great. And nobody thinks that Lefty shouldn't be punished for the disrespect to the caern." A pause. "But who are you to come here throwing your weight around? Preaching about *respect*?"

"I," Felix says proudly, and portentously, "am a philodox. My bounden duty is to see that the proper ways are adhered to. Not just in my sept, but anywhere in the Garou Nation I may happen to be travelling. And let me tell you," he goes on, a sneer developing in his voice, "that this is a sick sept. A swamp of fear and loathing. The proper customs are forgotten. Rottenness breeds from within. Look yourself in the heart, KL Cole, and ask yourself whether you --" his finger shoots out at her, pointing -- "are part of the problem, or part of the solution."

"You fucking piece of up yourself fucking shit," KL yells back, eyes misting. "You fucking well come around and fucking well tell me that my sept is fucking well sick? You fucking asshole. You're a fucking philodox not fucking god. And a fucking cliath at that. You should fucking well have some fucking humility." She takes a couple of steps towards him, her cheeks colouring.

Felix does flinch at this tirade. Just a bit. He straightens his sunglasses again, although this time they didn't need the attention. "I'm a philodox who cares," he growls back, sounding more defensive now. "How many of those can you name in this sept? Seriously? And /you/ are a cliath too," he can't resist adding, "...girl."

KL blinks, as if she can't believe what she's just heard. Then, in a flash, she shifts instantly up into Crinos and launches an unthinking, unplanned, attack on Felix, claws flashing, her jaws open in a slavering roar of pure rage. One moment, she's an annoyed woman, the next, the room is filled with black-furred fury.

A clawed fist smashes into Felix's face and tears half of it off. Literally. Blood covers Felix, Escapes, the furniture, the half eaten sandwich, and most of the room. Felix is hurled backwards by the force of the blow, but somehow, almost incredibly, remains on his feet, and in sufficient possession of his faculties to use those feet to hightail it away from the frenzying Fury. Or to try to.

Escapes gives an exultant scream, and then moves to pursue the fleeing Shadowlord. Her gleaming claws are now covered in blood, and the taste of blood is in her mouth. Crinos Garou, however, are not made for running around farmhouses, and as a result, her foot catches the coffee table, sending it flying, but causing her to stumble to all fours. A stumble that delays her exit from the room.

Felix clutches at the kitchen door handle, throws it open, and dives into the kitchen, leaving a bloody smear on the door as he passes. The back door gets a similar treatment. And then he's out in the yard, making a noise that's midway between a gurgle and a scream through his ruined mouth, racing for the barn as though his life depended on it... which is likely.

Out of the door...no...rather through the door, taking it off its hinges with an almighty thump, comes a Crinos Garou. Eyes vacant with rage, blood on her claws and running from her muzzle, howling defiance and fury. Escapes is obviously far gone, and pursuing the fleeing Felix with a deadly determination.

Lefty slides the barn door open and wanders into the yard. The site of Felix--and the trail of blood on the glass back door--draw her eyes open wide. "Aw shit," she mutters, hurrying acroos the ground toward the philodox.

Felix is not a pretty sight. His face, from the nose down, is basically not there any more. White bone and whiter teeth gleam here and there through the wet red of raw flesh, and his lower jaw hangs loose, clearly smashed free from its joints. His eyes are whole, though, and his sunglasses having fallen off in the scrimmage, can be clearly seen. There's fear in them. He tries to scream something to Lefty, but it only comes out as a disjointed series of noises.

The appearance of the crinos in the yard forces an even louder 'oh shit' from the Gnawer. It's the only indulgence she allows, burning rage to shift up to hispo. The ragabash leaps between Escapes and the bleeding philodox, snapping her jaws to get the mindless garou's attention. whether her jaws find purchase or not, a moment later the Gnawer leaps back--hopefully drawing the crinos' to follow her instead of the downed prey.

Felix stumbles to a halt for a brief second, wide eyes gazing in awe at the sight of Lefty -- Lefty, of all people -- leaping in to protect him from the ravening frenzy of the ahroun Fury. It's only the most momentary pause for marvelling that he allows himself, though; he somehow forces his wounded body back into motion, and swaying and stumbling, he runs again, heading towards the barn door. As he comes closer to the barn door, Felix's body swells and grows as he lurches into glabro form. This does little or nothing to stop the flow of blood from his smashed face, though.

Lefty's tactic works, in so much as it draws Escapes' attention away from Felix and on to the Bone-Gnawer. There's no recognition there, though. She launches herself towards her target, claws and teeth at the ready, intending to rip-rend-chew as fast as she can.

Ferret lets out a yelp as one of the crinos' claws catches her. She stumbles, but the blood on her flank only makes try and move that much faster to avoid being caught again.

Escapes screams in pain as Lefty's jaws close around her leg, biting through to the bone. She attempts to pursue the fleeing Hispo, but her gait is a stumbling one now, no more than a walk. Her own blood flows freely down onto the ground, a red river coursing from her body.

Ferret may be only three-pawed, but she is still pretty fast. The hispo bounds into the tree-line, zigging and zagging to try and keep the frenzied garou's attention without actually becoming it's victim. She lets out a snarl to help keep it focused on her, then bounds forward again. She heads deep into the woods, towards bawn and hopefully help.

What the bloody fuck? and many, many other naught four letter words and phrases are clearly what's going through Abraxas's head as he steps out of the barn and sees...this. He doesn't recognize /any/ of the combatants, including the one staggering toward him, except that one over there that might be Lefty, or it might be Tu. Blink. And then he's surging forward into Crinos himself, ignoring the badly wounded Lord for the clearly frenzying Fury.

Two targets to pick from, but one looms largest in what passes for the frenzying Escapes' consciousness. She attempts, hard though it is, to launch an attack on Brax, claws at the ready. That damaged leg is going to make it hard, though.

Bitter-Harvest is wary, for all his quick action. He has absolutely no idea who the other crinos is, and, as far as he can tell, no backup. He springs to one side as she comes at him, feeling the wind of her missed blow, and then turns sharply to deliver a blow of his own. He's not pulling any punches.

Abraxas' blow strikes Escapes' amidships, raking through her hide and scoring deep into her stomach. It takes a second, and a step, but the light fades from her eyes and she falters, then falls to the ground with a resounding thump, unconscious.

Felix reaches the doorway of the barn, and standing there, leaning on the frame for support, he bulks up to crinos (nearly banging his head on the lintel, but that's the least of his worries.) He's still drooling blood copiously as he stares across the yard at the fight, and his fists clench involuntarily as he sees his assailant go down.

Ferret watches the last of the fight from the woods. She had intended, once Brax joined in, to come around behind and hit Escapes over the head with a branch, perhaps. But with the Fury out cold, the gnawer drops down to her homid form and jogs back to the barn. "I'll run and get someone to help," she tells them.

Spits-out-Nails 's face is no less disfigured in crinos than it was in homid. He retreats into the barn as Lefty approaches, almost as though he doesn't want her to look at him, and shifts again, into lupus, where he can at least 'speak' without having to use his mouth much. I am hurt, I am hurt. My face, my face, my face.

Bitter-Harvest glowers at the unconscious Fury in bad temper. ~Who the hell is this?~ The question is directed at Lefty, but he barely glances at her before he swings around to look at Felix. ~In the barn. Before someone sees.~

Ferret wasn't sure until the crinos turned unconscious, but now that she has a good look at the girl, she answers, "I think her name's KL. Packmate of Emma's I believe?" Looking up to Felix, then, it is perhaps a bit ironic that the gnawer flinches--faintly repulsed by the disfigurement caused by the Fury's claws. It lasts only a second, and she again adds, "I'll get help." With that, the Gnawer runs to get people to heal and stuff.

Bitter-Harvest shifts back down to homid, grumbling as he goes. The news that the unconscious Fury is Emma's packmate gives him at least a little bit of a pause before he bends down to pick her up.

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